Depressively Awesome Summertime
by Half-Blood Metamorphmagus
Summary: My entry to "The Summer 2013 Wizarding Modly Forum-Wide Comp of Awesomeness" in the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges Forum. This is a multi-chaptered fic that will change according to each challenge. Entry to Challenge 2 is up!
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N**_ - For all those readers wondering, this is my entry to "_The Summer 2013 Wizarding Modly Forum-Wide Comp of Awesomeness" _in the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges Forum. This is a multi-chaptered fic that will change according to each entry required.

**I AM MORPHY OF SLYTHERIN AND I HAVE COMPLETED THE FIRST CHALLENGE: A!**

"Cast a Warming Charm! Write a happy, humorous or heart-warming story with the aim to warm your readers. Since you'll be falling asleep soon, your maximum word limit is 600 words. Stipulation: no smut. It makes this particular Charm harder to control."

_Funnily enough, I was truly writing this before falling asleep._

**Name:**_ Half-Blood Metamorphmagus_** - House: **_Slytherin _**- Pet: **_Natural Heat (to be approved by staff) - _**Wand: **_Waiting for Ollivander to give it back, the old man loved it too much to let go. How rude of him._

I would like to receive my score as a PM, and in the out of 20 form.

**~º~**

* * *

After all these years, he couldn't believe that he actually did it. So many long, hard working years, and it all came to this. This was all he has searched for, the answer to all his questions, the miracle he was looking for his whole life. And it was finally resting here with him. Plump. Soft. Loving. And the eyes! Those gorgeous eyes it held! Made of pure, round sunshine, so utterly beautiful, so lively. He could nearly look inside, deep into that tiny little soul made of light. The body was small, but the mouth was long, sweet red and almost as if curving into a smile. He couldn't be more proud. Carefully, he brought the object of his pride underwater, gently dragging it along as it reached the surface. Like a loving father would to a loving baby son. But instead, this was his sun. And he knew he would cherish its light forever, the rays, his most prized possession. He honestly couldn't believe what he had been missing, especially for this long. Such a common thing, such a common moment for everyone else. But to him, it was nothing short of complete genius. He wanted to find out who came up with a feat this great, this brilliant masterpiece of all that is whole and plastic; And he admired it all. All the small details sculptured into its skin, the smoothness to the touch, the little bump at the end of its rear and the overall cuteness of the thing. This is something that he has always appreciated in this piece. But right now, at this moment in time, it is the magnificent light that is reflected upon the running water over its wings. And there was nothing else that he could do, other than stare. Stare, and gaze, and observe. All the things he could do with his vision in order to take in the beautiful figure before him. Such beauty is blatantly overrated, taken over by flamboyant bits of colourful dolls, all stick thin and useless, providing nothing but empty fulfillment. But _this! _This was different. Much different from all that he's ever seen. To start, this was no doll. This was an important part of culture, that has brought plenty of entertainment to generations of people over the decades. This was far more than a simple toy. This, he now knows, is a rubber duck. And he finally learned its function:

To complete lives and interesting showers.


	2. Torn

My entry to the second challenge, at last!

_**Strategy 3:**__ Run like hellebore. What some may call the most sensible strategy for dealing with the Dark Arts: don't deal with them at all. Write a story in which a character is "running from something"._

**Name:** _Half-Blood Metamorphmagus_ - **House:** _Slytherin_ - **Pet:** _Natural Heat (to be approved by staff) -_ **Wand:** _Ollivander still has it, he's in love with it._

And I would like to receive my score as a PM in the out of 20 form, pretty please!

Regulus just didn't know what to do anymore. He knew this was what he wanted, but he couldn't support him now, not after this. Kreacher was like family to him, it's not as if he could carry on normally after this. The Dark Lord's ways just weren't right.

Actually, none of this was right. He should back out.

But he couldn't.

For years, he had venerated this man. In all that was known of his life and doings, he saw nothing but what was right being practiced. Pureblood supremacy was right, since his childhood, he couldn't believe this man could do any wrong. And the tattoo that he has been bearing for the past three years, was what he wanted the most, what he devoted his entire life to for the longest time, his main goal, finally achieved. But he couldn't agree with this, not anymore. He was torn. He so loved the dark arts, his most precious books taught all of it, it was enticing, tempting. Each page turned was another treat for his obsession, as if he was spellbound. But he, more than anything, defended magic. And the greater good couldn't be achieved through the torture of naturally magical creatures. That was wrong, and he always thought so, or else he'd never treat his house-elf as kindly as he did. He had to change this, he had to run away from this madness.

And so he would, for he had finally found a way.

He felt himself burning, something that couldn't be comparable to anything, like the Cruciatus Curse. His mouth was in desperate of water, of anything at all, as long as he could quench his thirst. But he had to be strong this time, he had to hold on just for a little longer. Grabbing the edge, he poised the locket into the basin, finally letting himself slump to the ground as his eyes meet Kreacher's. He nodded a goodbye, and suddenly, without warning, lunged for the water, his companion's cries going unheard as he dove headfirst into it, mouth open, trying to get as much water inside as humanly possible.

And then he felt them. Cold, twisted hands, gripping, pulling him. He closed his eyes, wondering whose hands they were, if those were the bodies of the people his past master had to kill in order to create those deadly Horcruxes. And then he thought of his mother, trying not to cry. He cared so much for everyone, regardless of what they thought him to be. But this was something that he had to do, his redemption to the mistakes of his youth. And as he look his last breath, he knew he had done the right thing.

As the Inferi so hungrily feasted on him, his body might be... but his soul was no longer torn.


End file.
